


Everything you want is a dream away

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: An adventure in the stars.“Handsome,” is what the healer says first and in unaccented Basic.  Her eyes never leave Poe’s face despite the wild gesturing and vocalizations coming out of Finn. “I’d do him for free.” Behind him, he can hear Finn making some sort of flustered noise and then consciousness becomes thready, uneven, and lost.





	Everything you want is a dream away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pugglemuggle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugglemuggle/gifts).



> A Trick or Treat 2017 treat for pugglemuggle

**TWENTY MINUTES LATER**

“Handsome,” is what the healer says first and in unaccented Basic. Her eyes never leave Poe’s face despite the wild gesturing and vocalizations coming out of Finn. “I’d do him for free.” 

Poe knows he looks like shit, pale and sweaty and gross, but he puts on his most charming smile. She makes a sort of pleased sigh. “Your lover would do well to calm down, you’re not dying on my table,” she says, tugging hard on his blood-soaked hand and pulling him through the door. 

He knows he growing delirious, but oh, what a lovely feeling the word _lover_ gives him, and the raging pain in his side lessens just a little bit. 

Behind him, he can hear Finn making some sort of flustered noise and then consciousness becomes thready, uneven, and lost. 

 

**A WEEK BEFORE**

The General sits him down and reaches out, touches his hand. It’s unusual for her to do this, to him, and so he sits up straight and waits to hear whatever comes out of her mouth. A bit mesmerized.

“I have a mission for you,” she says and then her hand slips away and he feels cold all of a sudden. “I’m sending you to Nar Shaddaa. Takes some fancy flying and some wit to get through Hutt space.” She smiles then. “You’re meeting with a contact we’ve made in the First Order. An officer willing to start a revolt.”

“Ma’am,” he says simply, thinking about the whys and wherefores but then--

“You’re not on point for this, you’re to be pilot and bodyguard,” and the hair on Poe’s neck rises, knowing what comes next: “Your objective is simple. Keep Finn alive and bring him home.”

His mouth flies open to say something but he closes it just as quickly. He breathes in, out. “Ma’am.”

 

**WHEN IT HAPPENED**

“If he never shows, at least I will have gotten to see the rare beauty of this place,” Finn says in his ear as they watch various and sundry mill about a seedy bar. There’s a musky smell to the place, and it’s just a touch too cold. Transactions are made, networks are strengthened, and many, many, many drinks are poured. Finn is still cradling his, untouched. Which is just as well, Finn’s tolerance is shit after all. 

Poe sips lightly on his bubbly beverage, feeling a lightness in his knees from it. It’s nice, he thinks and doesn’t say. Sitting here, despite the location and clientele. He doesn’t get to spend much time with Finn. 

Not since the General put Finn to work. 

In this place, they can’t talk about Resistance gossip and activity, so they spend the time telling made up stories. Big beautiful lies, tall tales, and falsehoods. Poe feels his cheek pinken, just staring at Finn’s face light up as he says something brazen and bizarre. 

“We should do this,” Poe says stupidly. “More often.” 

Finn looks around and then laughs and he laughs and he laughs. “We should.” 

“You know what I mean,” Poe says quietly.

There’s a shared smile before a knife is brandished in the periphery of Poe’s vision. And it’s without thought or feeling; his body just _moves_ as Finn yells something “no” shaped. 

Metal meets his insides and he feels the blood boil out as the knife is removed. Poe’s hand hits the chin of the assassin, fumbles for the knife. When he has it, he slashes up and across, viciously. And a thought races into his head: _that was meant for Finn._

 

**TWO WEEKS BEFORE**

He’s waiting for him as Finn disembarks, carefully shaking the hands of his pilot before walking towards Poe. There’s a smile on his face, and he fist pumps the air. “Success,” he says happily once in earshot. “Another First Order station destroyed.”

The General is using every speck of knowledge she can pull out of Finn to help the cause, bring down the First Order, and Poe feels, well, he feels--

“Congratulations,” he says and his arms reach wide. Finn takes the steps needed to be pressed against him, tight, and Poe wraps his arms around him; a friendly embrace. The kind they always have when they meet each other after missions. Poe holds him close for a moment, takes a deep breath, and lets him go. 

_What happens_ , he thinks, _when Finn has has no more leads and he can finally rest?_

 

**HOURS AFTER**

Poe wakes up in a dark room and curses sharply. _It’s all gone tits up_ , he thinks. They’ve missed at least two check ins, they missed the meeting with the officer, and he’s on a med table after being patched up because he wasn’t careful enough. What would the General say if she was here, standing over him. He’d rather be looking up at-- _no. No_ , he thinks. _Don’t think of_ him. 

There’s the sound of a snore in the corner, and Poe turns his head to see a Finn-shaped figure, sleeping. Something softens in his heart. _At least_ , he thinks. _At least_ \--

“Mr. Dameron,” a female voice says at the door and Poe nearly leaps up, and immediately winces from the pain. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“I’m--” he starts.

“Don’t rip your stitches,” she says and moves into his line of sight. “I’d hate to do them again.” It’s the healer, and there’s something-- there’s something different about the way she carries herself. “Now that I have you, we can talk business.”

Poe blinks.

“I’m the Chief Medical Officer for the Battlecruiser _Oblivion_. A number of my colleagues and I are considering a career change,” she says, her Basic now with an elegant sounding accent. 

Poe raises his hand in the air, his index finger pointed up, and his mouth opens but--

“You had to stab one of us first? To get us alone?” Finn says from his corner, a low dangerous sort of voice. “This is an elaborate ruse, doctor.” 

She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. “First Order spies are better than yours, and your sainted General sent the most easy-to-spot persons in the galaxy. You were made before you landed, gentlemen. It may be a neutral moon, but--” and she shrugs. 

He hears Finn rise from a seated position, move to stand next to him. There’s a hand now gripping his shoulder, hard. “So, we’re at your tender mercy, I take it?” Something like fear rises in Poe’s heart and he squares his jaw. 

“Your partner is alive after being under my knife twice over,” she says. “I can’t help if you’re not the trusting type.”

Finn’s grip lessens. “Tell us your plan, then.”

And Poe watches her mouth curve up into a smile.

 

**A WEEK LATER**

Jessika picks them up on Jelucan, and she opens with: “You both look like shit. Well done with the _thoroughly crippling the enemy_ thing, I guess.”

 

**AND AFTER THAT**

They’re debriefed for hours by Intelligence; the men and women who take pleasure in the tiniest details. It’s dizzying and more than one time, Poe turns to Finn and they stare at each other, breathe in and out, and then turn their heads forward. Open their mouths to speak.

The General arrives at the end, and at the wave of her hand, the room empties other than Poe and Finn. She looks at them, carefully appraising them before: “Well done, gentlemen.” 

And the room feels so empty when she leaves.

 

**AND THEN AFTER THAT**

With most of a bottle drunk, Finn is quite silly and Poe tongue is looser than it should be. Saying things. Saying dumb things. Saying things he really means like:

“I hate you on the front line, buddy,” he says. “Why can’t you have a desk job where I know you’re safe.”

Finn bites his lip. “You know this is how I feel about you, out there in a cardboard box with flimsy shields relying on luck and a quick draw?” 

“It’s unbearable,” Poe breathes out. 

“But _we have to win_ ,” he replies, and he gets close. “We have to win, and if that means an unbearable life, then. That’s what it means.”

Poe has to think about that. “I don’t like it.”

“No,” Finn says after a moment. “Me either.”

“You know what I do like,” Poe says so fast it’s probably hard to parse. “I like this.” And gestures between them. “More of this. We should do this more often.”

When Finn laughs, Poe thinks it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. And the idea isn’t fully formed in his head before he acts. Pushes in, doesn’t even notice that Finn lifts his chin up to meet him. And there are lips against lips, a crushing sensation of skin against skin and just a swipe of tongue along his lower lip. 

Finn pulls away and looks rather proud. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he says. 

And then Poe’s got Finn’s jacket collar in his hand, and he’s pulling on it, a _tug tug tug_ , and Finn’s in his arms. And when their lips meet again, everything else melts away.

#


End file.
